


Take The Reins

by ToTheMax



Series: Number Mix-Its [8]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But Only Sorta, listen i had this idea and ran with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToTheMax/pseuds/ToTheMax
Summary: Months after Aasim's death, Omar finally opens that history book of his.[TWDG Mix-It's challenge: #29 + #16 = Omar... deals with the loss of his significant other]
Relationships: Aasim/Omar (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Series: Number Mix-Its [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684795
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Take The Reins

**Author's Note:**

> Omar/Aasim wasnt something I thought I needed until now
> 
> Also I did actual math for this one I expended brain cells to do math for this fic I hope u enjoy the fruits of my labor

Omar winced as sunlight hit his eyes. He squinted them open, then gave a heavy sigh and pulled the blanket over his head. Under the covers was pretty much his home now, ever since he got the bed all to himself. He'd found solace in the stale air and the vague glow of sunlight streaming through the areas of the blanket worn thin by time.

He felt a twinge in his stomach as a crow called on the other side of his window. He then heard conversation in the courtyard, making him curl in tighter on himself and drag the blanket more over his head. He was only reminded of how silent it was in his room.

If he imagined hard enough, he could hear it; the bed creaking as Aasim got up, the chair scraping against the floor as he sat down, pages of his book flipping and fluttering, and his dull pencil scratching over a new page.

These days, it was all his imagination. Ever since—

Omar groans and throws the blanket off his body, barely cringing at the sunlight hurting his eyes. He doesn't want to think about it; it's best he get up anyway. He's sure the other kids have gotten used to cooking for themselves, since they rarely see him out of his room before noon. The thought doesn't bother him nearly as much as he thinks it should. Maybe he just can't be bothered to care.

He pulls his sleeve down his arm, rubbing tiredness out of his face. He looks out his window and sees a glimpse of the fire pit, now extinguished. Willy and AJ are sitting on the couch facing away from his window, so he can't see their faces, but they look like they're in happy conversation.

A sudden jolt courses through Omar's leg, causing him to seethe and dip his weight forward, balancing himself with the desk in front of the window. "Stupid fuckin' bullet," his raspy voice hisses. He looks down at his limp leg, carefully stretching it out. With a grunt, he pulls back the desk chair and sits down, deciding to take a small break before leaving his room.

His eyes wander back onto the desk, and he gives a sorry sigh as he curls his fingers over the hard cover of Aasim's history journal. His eyes are already brimming with tears as he picks up his old, worn pencil, more graphite than wood at this point.

 _It's the last thing you have of him. Open it,_ he told himself. _You should write down what happened at the boat, he would have wanted it that way._

Just thinking about their experience captured at Delta's mercy was almost too much, it made him shudder. Still, he flipped the book open. He had to do this. For Aasim.

Page after page of scribbled handwriting flew past his eyes and he caught the headings of dates and entry numbers. By the time he got just over halfwaybtheo7gh the book, he found the last entry Aasim ever wrote. 

_Sept. 17_

_Entry #2,894_

_Things aren't looking so good. It's been 2 whole weeks since Clementine came back and said the raiders were on their way. The longer we wait for them to show up, the more antsy we all get. And for some of us, our fear turns to anger. There's been too many fights between Violet and Mitch to count, most of them some power struggle or "this is why you're wrong!" bullshit._

_Regardless, we've pretty much finished our preparations. We used all the spare shit we could carry to block off the main fence, and Louis finished the barbed wire around the walls. We put up some decorations and barriers to hide behind, Willy even made us a new flag._

_As prepared as we are, I can't help but be worried. They have guns, and all we have are bows and sticks. We're used to chasing rabbits and taking down walkers, not running for our lives from_ **_adults_ ** _with_ **_guns_ ** _. Actually, fuck worried. I'm terrified._

 _I cant help but get the feeling something horrible is going to happen. Someone's going to die, i know it. Marlon_ **_and_ ** _Brody were killed in one night without any outside help. What if they kill us all? What if only one of us is left alive? I dont know which one is worse. Rosie would get pretty lonely either way. They better not kill Rosie._

_If something does happen to me like I keep feeling it will, then I want Omar to keep writing entries for me. Not just because he's my boyfriend (and i trust him mostly because of that) but he's calculated. He can asses a situation, and I know no one who can write down the details of the day better than him._

_Let's hope it doesnt get to that point. I'm not ready to die yet. I can only hope I'm overreacting._

Fuck, he was crying. He had to tilt his head so his tears wouldn't wet the pages, and there was no way he could stop them once they started. 

It's some form of twisted fitting that Aasim's last written word was ironic. Of _course_ it was. Omar had a feeling that Aasim meant it that way; he was always one for dramatic prose in his writing. 

Now it was up to _him_ to carry on Aasim's legacy? How could he ever hold a candle to the thousands of words Aasim wrote? The thousands of _days_ he had logged into this book? He knew he had to try. So, he picked up the pencil and started writing. He made sure to head the entry with the date, taking a small moment to count how many days it's been on the calendar lying on the desk.

_Nov. 15_

_Day #2,953_

_He wasn't overreacting. Aasim is dead._

Just writing those two simple sentences was enough to choke a sob out of him. He kept going, using his free hand to hold to his face to stop the tears from hitting the pages.

_aasim handed the ropes to me (o_ _mar) so I'm doing my best to follow in his footsteps. The night of that last entry, the raiders came. There were at least six of them, maybe more, all with guns and carts to carry us away. the most I remember from that night was getting shot in the leg, right through the knee. I tried hiding in the graveyard, but they found me and dragged me off. Aasim tried getting me to safety, but all he did was trap himself. They got me, Aasim, and Louis._

_Once we were put in the cells on the boat, it was just a lot of sitting and waiting and wishing Louis would shut up. Minnie was there, she became one of them. I guess I cant blame her, considering the last time she saw any of us was when Marlon fucked her and Sophie over. It still hurt to see her siding with them over us._

_They cut Louis's tongue out. He kept talking back and they had enough. It was a lot of blood and screaming, I thought he was gonna die. He's alive though. Aasim is the only one that died_

_._

He's crying harder now, but he has to keep writing. He coughs instead of sobs, feeling hitched breath come in through his sleeve as he sets his head down on the table, cushioned by his arm as he continues writing.

_Clementine came to save us, but she didn't tell us they put a bomb on the boat. We managed to get off before it exploded, but then it tipped over in the water and shot shrapnel everywhere. It got Aasim right in the chest, there was no saving him. Believe me I tried. I stayed behind when everyone else went back to the school to try to save him, but I couldnt. Nobody could._

_I tried._

Omar shoved the book away from him, letting sobs wrack his body as he buried his face in his arms. He curled his fingers into his sleeves as tight as he could, digging his nails into his skin, trying to at least attempt to match the pain in his chest, but it didn't even come close. All he could do was let himself cry.

He always thought he was too hopeful when it came to him and Aasim. He always thought something would rip them apart. But he learned to love every day, every brush of their fingers, every hesitant kiss in the courtyard, every time they'd laugh at a stupid joke. He learned to push his worries away and enjoy the moment. 

He'd lose count of the minutes turned hours they'd spend lying in bed, just drinking in the presence of each other, trying to squeeze every last moment they could out of the sunlight. 

Now there were no moments left to enjoy. No more time wasted in bed, no more hunting patrols hand-in-hand, nothing. 

The longer he dwelled on the memories, oddly, the better he felt. It wasn't totally okay, far from it, but he felt one of the wounds on his heart starting to scab over. His tears eventually slowed, and his head was full of cotton once he finally stopped. He looked down at his arm, noticing a wet spot. _At least it's not the pillow this time._

_knock knock knock knock_

Omar jumped, turning around in his chair. "Uh— yeah? Come in!" Quickly he tried to swipe the rest of his tears away, but it was a futile attempt. He tried thinking of different excuses he could come up with to defend himself. 

The door gently opened, and Tenn poked his head into the room. "Hey," he greeted, soft as ever. "I just… wanted to check on you. You haven't been outside all day."

"Oh." Omar sniffled, wiping his arm over his face again as Tenn stepped in, closing the door behind him. "Yeah, sorry. I-I, uh… I woke up late, and…" He reached out, closing Aasim's– his– history journal. "... got distracted."

Tenn nodded, his fingers instinctively tangling together. "Oh, okay. Do you want to come out for lunch? Ruby cooked it."

Omar sat back in his seat, his fingers not leaving the surface of the journal. "Well, at least it wasn't Willy again." He felt a smile he didn't initiate. "That was terrible."

Tenn gave a tiny chuckle. "Hah, yeah. Definitely not as good as you."

"Maybe in a little bit," Omar said. "I, uh… I should keep writing for a little bit."

Tenn tilted his head, coming closer to the desk. "Is… that Aasim's book?"

Omar nodded, the twinge in his heart not as strong as he was expecting. "Yeah. He… he left it to me. To keep filling out the days. I, um… I filled out what happened at the boat, but nothing else."

Tenn's eyes fell to the floor as he came to Omar's side, sensing he needed some form of comfort. "I'm sorry about Aasim," he mumbled.

Omar just nodded. "I'm sorry about Minnie. And Violet."

Tenn paused, swallowing hard. He just nodded in return, leaning into Omar's shoulder. "They shouldn't have died," he said, his voice surprisingly level. "At least, not like that."

Omar hummed, tapping a thumb on the cover of the history book. He was never one for giving kind words, but he had an idea. "You know, if you're up for it, I think we could use what happened on the bridge as a part of the book. We definitely don't wanna repeat that."

"Hm?" Tenn flitted his gaze up to meet Omar's. "But… it was super scary."

"I understand if you don't wanna tell me," Omar said, holding his hand up. "I could barely get out what happened to Aasim. But… I think it helped me in some weird way to have it on paper."

Tenn shifted away to sit on the edge of Omar's bed, hands in his lap. "I don't know. Do you think I can just put in some of my drawings? I don't wanna just say it."

"You've done drawings?"

Tenn nodded somberly. "It's like… the only thing I can draw lately. I tried to draw them happy, but it always just turned into walkers. Will… will that work?"

Omar opened the book and looked at the page he had nearly filled, seeing a blank spot near the bottom. Then, he pushed it over to Tenn along with the pencil. "Why don't you just draw the bridge here? I'll piece what happened together from AJ and Clementine if you don't wanna talk about it."

Tenn jerked his head up, surprise crossing his face. "You… want me to draw in the book?"

Omar tried to smile. "Go for it. I'm not as good an artist as you, and you were actually there." He twined his fingers together, watching as Tenn picked up the pencil. "Aasim left the book to me, so… I'm just doing what I think would get the point across best. You know, in case someone way down the line finds it."

Tenn seemed a little more confident as he took the book, propping one knee up to steady himself. "You really think it'll help?"

Omar shrugged. "Can't hurt to try."

The room fell silent, save for the pencil scratching on paper. The sun warming Omar's face had dried his cheeks, although he was sure his eyes were still bloodshot. He let Tenn work, laying his head on his arms as he leaned onto the desk exhaustion from his crying fit finally taking hold. He listened in on some conversation Ruby was having with AJ in the courtyard, birds singing and a cool breeze inviting itself into the room through the holes in the window.

And when he closed his eyes, he smiled. His room was less quiet, even though it was only a bit. 

He didn't have Aasim's company, he never would. These next few winters were going to be long and painful without him to warm the bed next to him at night, or to offer an extra hand at the hunting grounds. It would be hard without his words of affirmation, without seeing that smile every day.

But he knew he could do it. As long as the room was less quiet, as long as his friends were here… 

_I can do it. Day by day._

**Author's Note:**

> The math I used was to count the days in case u were unaware


End file.
